Boots: Frye Paige Tall Riding Boots
Jewelry and Cami: The Limited
"So you hid all your tears in the grass...You said, 'Damn be this wind, it's still movin' on in to the bones and the bed of my soul.'"
These photos were taken a week ago on the day the weather changed. There was a strong, warm breeze blowing the warmer temperatures in and making it difficult to get photos in this open field without my hair getting all up in my grill. I was determined to get some good shots, though. I'd been eyeing this beautiful red sorrel (aka sour grass) for a couple of weeks and had been waiting for a warmer day to get out in it with Jerry and his camera. This field is only a mile away from our house, and it was the thickest, most vibrant field of this type of grass I had ever seen. I'm speaking of it in the past tense because it has since lost it's luster. We were lucky and caught it at just the right time. It's not nearly as vibrant now as it was last week.
This is normally the paragraph where I would transition and wax all philosophical, using the changing winds and aging grass in a metaphor about life, but I'm not going to go there today. Well, at least not in the way you expect. That's right, I'm going to be positive for a change and declare that this aging thing ain't so bad.
I was struck by this thought while speaking with my dad last week. I was on my way home and saw him outside chopping in his garden, so I impulsively stopped in to say hi and see how he was doing. As he stood there talking about himself (like he always does), I found myself really focusing in on his wrinkles and the sound of his voice. He's changed so much from the man I used to idolize as a child. He's mortal now, both physically and mentally. I could see right through the bullshit he was spewing as he went on and on about himself, and I felt really thankful that I could finally see him for the man he really is without the rose-colored glasses of a child. Don't get me wrong, I love him, but it's good to know he's just as flawed as the rest of us.
I was also intrigued and amused by the fact that he's squirrel hunting now. This is a man who has always prided himself in being one bad ass motherfucker. He's hunted and killed some of nature's most impressive creatures including buffalo, elk, and bears. So, it's pretty hilarious to visualize him out with his gun stalking poor, little squirrels. I guess bad ass motherfuckers get too old for shit too.
Anyway, "Dad, The Squirrel Hunter," really reinforced my belief that we all revert back to childhood in old age, and this got me thinking, "You know, some day in the not too distant future, he may need me like I needed him at one time, and maybe that will give us a chance to reconnect again." This also gives me hope as I look at my own children who are growing and changing at lightning speed before my very eyes. It's good to know that change doesn't always have to be a source of dread. Just like everything in nature, the winds of change are cyclical. What was new becomes old, and what was old becomes new again.